Strawberry Deluge: The Never Ending Blaze
by SlvrSoleAlchmst1
Summary: [Some shounen ai: Dearka x Yzak] Just what's with Dearka and strawberries, anyway? Yzak gets fed up with the blonde's indulgence. He sets out for revenge on the hapless Dearka, only to find that the obsession ends up fueling their fire.
1. Strawberry Attack 1

_A/N: For Dearka and Yzak. For ZAFT! For crack fanfiction. For complete spontaneity and nonsensical, random indulgence! Mostly though… for strawberries. :P_

Dearka lounged on the sofa. One leg hung draped over the worn cushions, while his free foot dangled and bounced to some inner melody. Yzak watched him from the corner of his eye in his spot at the kitchen table, where he was rifling through a mound of documents. Documents that - once he thought about it - were not half as interesting as the sight of the reclining blonde. With a sigh of distraction, he twisted around in his chair and pasted a sneer onto his pale features.

"Do you ever do anything useful with your life, Elsman, or is being lazy your forte?"

The blonde lifted his head from the crook of his arm and grinned mischievously. "I think it's just that you can't concentrate with me sitting here this way, looking like I've got nothing better to do than wait for you to be finished so we can finally have some fun." Yzak's face went crimson, and Dearka's tone grew cheekier. "You don't have to hide it, Joule. I know my being here is a threat to the completion of your paperwork, but you'll have to fight those waves of desire and be patient." Then he winked.

Yzak sprung up from his chair, livid and furious for allowing Dearka to carry on. "As if I'd sacrifice my work for _your_ sorry carcass, Elsman," he hissed with poison on his tongue.

Dearka rolled impishly off the sofa and crossed to the kitchen much faster than Yzak Joule expected. The blonde seized him around the waist and swept him forward until their hips were forced together. The silver head's breath hitched at the contact, and soon enough he found himself within inches of Dearka's handsome face.

"What about now, Joule?" Dearka breathed, that accursed defiant curve gracing those firm, alluring lips. "What about _now?_ You sick of working yet?"

Yzak - though feeling his inner core clench and his body react to the warm sensation of Dearka against him – managed to grit his teeth and spit a caustic reply. "Not in your wildest dreams, Elsman. Let me go."

Apparently he'd said the wrong thing, for now the blonde was smirking triumphantly.

"You want to know something about my wildest dreams, Yzak?" The grin expanded, amused now. "Why don't you let me illustrate to you the potency of my bedtime fantasies?"

Before Yzak could process the well-spoken line, Dearka was kissing him. The silver head was backed against the table; he felt his thighs strike wooden edges. His hands flew down to grip the tabletop, and he squeezed until his knuckles turned white. Dearka kissed him as though he might consider a slow, languid tango right there in the kitchen for lack of patience. Then he was using his tongue.

Yzak went dizzy in stages, with a reluctant pleasure that only festered the longer the blonde slid his tongue over his lips, inside his mouth, in and out with dangerous indulgence. A wanton moan threatened to break from the silver-haired male's throat, though he fought it with all his might. Then suddenly…

He tasted something fruity.

Yzak growled a command for Dearka to release him, though it pained him to do so. He had to clear his head with two deep breaths before he could think straight.

"Dearka." He closed his eyes and prayed for tolerance. "Why in _hell_ do you taste like _strawberries?_"

At that moment, Yzak Joule wished he had never asked. Any other day, the silver head would have sworn that it was impossible for the blonde to instill in him such a sense of frightening irony. However, Dearka's winning grin now succeeded in doing so. Yzak watched in terror as, from the blonde's back pocket, a crinkling plastic package of licorice appeared and paraded before his nose.

"Strawberry flavor," was all Dearka said. Then he pulled another red strand from the bag and gnawed on it deliberately.

Yzak sputtered. "Th-that stuff again! It'll make your teeth fall out. It doesn't even _taste_ good, so why the hell do you always have it _around?_"

"Why do you ask when you already know the answer?"

The silver head let loose a wordless shriek of outrage and distanced himself from the opposite Coordinator with a murderous flash of his eyes. When he regained his ability to speak, he folded his arms across his chest.

"I just don't get it, Elsman. A liking for strawberries to this degree is absolutely _not_ an attractive quality, I'll have you know."

Dearka was unfazed. "Are you just jealous of my second favorite passion?"

"No."

"Annoyed, because you really wanted to taste _me_ but you got strawberry instead?"

"_No_."

Pause.

"You sure?"

Yzak exploded. "For the love of ZAFT, Elsman! So what if I _do_ resent your fucking strawberries?"

His chest heaved with exertion. Dearka burst into a set of loud guffaws, doubling over with the hilarity of Yzak's confession. The silver head supposed that he should have held his tongue, but he was boiling like a vengeful pot set to bubble over.

"It's out of control, Dearka. I'll _prove_ it to you."

That seductive grin was back on the blonde's face, and Yzak had to struggle not to let his resolution melt. "I think you're just making a big deal out of nothing, Yzak."

The silver-haired male gritted his teeth. "We'll see about that."

_A/N: Oh no. Make way for Yzak's almighty punishment. Stay tuned, because this will be a series of short little encounters. _

_A review with any criticism would be appreciated, since I rarely brave the realm of humor. DEARKA AND HIS LOVE OF ALL THINGS STRAWBERRY FOREVER!_


	2. Strawberry Attack 2

The light inside Dearka's refrigerator buzzed and flickered, the physical manifestation of the way Yzak's patience was wavering. He reached out and shifted aside a half finished carton of orange juice, looking for the milk. Then he started as a hand was clapped onto his shoulder from behind.

"Hey there."

The silver head's eyebrow ticked. "Dearka," he greeted through clenched teeth.

The blonde peered over his shoulder and scanned the depths of the refrigerator. "If you're looking for something, there's nothing in there."

"I realize that, idiot." Yzak slammed the door shut and crossed to the cupboards with a frown.

"What were you looking for?" Dearka asked lazily.

"Milk."

"I thought you didn't like milk."

Yzak tore open a new box of cereal with an incomprehensible mutter of irritation. He poured some into an empty bowl and poked at the dry pieces with his spoon, shooting Dearka a hateful glare in the process. He'd watched the glutton finish their carton off three days before.

"You said you'd buy more, dolt, so I didn't pick up more myself. Now there isn't any." His thin lips pursed in displeasure. "And no, I don't like it. Only in my cereal."

Dearka re-opened the refrigerator, shifting things around until he pulled something out from the back. He pivoted, a fresh carton held triumphantly aloft.

"But I _did_ buy more. See?"

Yzak rolled his eyes and trudged forward to seize the proffered container. Swiftly, he undid the seal and tipped the liquid into his bowl of cereal.

A split second later, Yzak was sputtering like mad and holding the carton as if it were a live viper.

"Elsman! This milk is _pink!_"

Dearka shrugged as if to tell him that he should have waited before unceremoniously dousing his cereal in it. "It's strawberry milk," he added a bit too late, ruffling his golden locks as he monitored his silver-haired companion.

"I should have known," Yzak spat.

At that, the blonde's face split into his trademark grin. "That's right. You should have."

"Arrgh!" Yzak's spoon went sailing across the kitchen, followed by an arc of pink milk as the liquid dripped from the angry silverware. "You _idiot!_ I don't want strawberry milk in my cereal!"

Dearka had skillfully dodged the flying projectile and was now moving to rescue the milk from Yzak's murderous hands. The blonde succeeded in prying the container from the irate male's grasp despite all efforts to dump its contents on Dearka's head, and Yzak growled in supreme fury as his vengeance was thwarted.

"What's wrong with strawberry milk?" Dearka asked, neatly sidestepping as Yzak made a fresh lunge for the stuff.

"It's disgusting."

The blonde lifted a condescending eyebrow. "Have you ever tried it?"

It was Yzak's turn to look skeptical. "I'm not so foolish that I'd insult something without knowing anything about it first, Elsman."

"So you _have_ tried it?"

"Isn't that what I said?" Yzak snapped.

Dearka tilted his head back and drank straight from the container, ignoring the silver-haired boy's grunt of disapproval. When he was done, he swiped a hand across his lips and smiled. "Trying it when you were a little kid doesn't count, Yzak."

The comment made Yzak hot with rage. "Just buy some _normal_ milk next time you go out!" And when the blonde took another swig from his carton and made a crude gesture that said, "like hell," Yzak took a vicious swing at him.

Dearka deftly caught his wrist with his free hand and backed Yzak into the cupboards. He lifted Yzak's arm and glued it to the cupboard doors above them with persuasive strength, before stealing Yzak's lips in a rough kiss.

Yzak moaned in desire and surprise. He had not been expecting that. Leave it to Elsman to make him weak with pleasure just when he was making progress with his temper. And so suddenly. He opened his mouth to the erotic sensation, and in slipped a cool, sweet liquid.

"Damn it!" Yzak fumed, shoving Dearka away and scrubbing at his mouth in desperation. He swallowed, the strawberry milk imprinted on his taste buds.

"You liked it," Dearka insisted maliciously.

Yzak tossed his ruined cereal into the drain with frost in his icy eyes. "I'll get you for that, Elsman."

The blonde only grinned.


	3. Strawberry Attack 3

Yzak groped through the tendrils of steam for his shampoo, as beads of hot water slid down his back. The droplets felt smooth, cleansing, and he finally had time to think. No Dearka. No paperwork. Just the hiss of scalding water and the fogging of the glass.

When he had clutched the shampoo bottle in his slippery grip, he flipped open the top and turned it over. He slit one eye open to make sure he didn't miss his hand as he squeezed the bottle's contents into his palm.

At once the silver head froze. He was holding _Dearka's_ shampoo bottle.

With a mild fit of disturbance, he snapped the cap shut before the scent of the stuff could reach his nose. He realized with a wry upturn of his lips that he'd just escaped a certain death by strawberries. Then Yzak Joule laughed in relief despite himself.

"Yzak, do I even want to know what it is you're doing in there that's making you giggle?" Dearka's voice came muffled from the other side of the bathroom door.

The grin receded from the silver head's face faster than it had appeared. "That was not a _giggle_, Elsman," he snarled, "And what the hell are you doing outside the door?"

"Wondering when you're getting out. I need to shower too, you know."

Yzak could sense the smile in the blonde's tone, and it made him cringe. "Yeah, well, wait your god damned turn." He turned the water hotter as if to singe away his irritation.

"I could always just shower _with_ you," Dearka began, but Yzak interrupted before he could make any further allusions.

"Control yourself, Elsman," he spat. He set Dearka's shampoo back on the shelf and sought to grab his own.

There was nothing in the space but air.

"DEARKA!"

The silver-haired male couldn't be sure over the patter of the water, but he suspected that the blonde was laughing behind the door.

"Dearka, what happened to my shampoo?" Yzak frothed. "Tell me or I'll send you on a permanent vacation to someplace dark when I get out of here." He waited, listening. It took Dearka quite some time to regain his composure, much to Yzak's chagrin.

"Yours was empty, Yzak, so I threw the bottle out yesterday."

The silver head fought to keep from ripping at his sopping, still-unclean locks and dancing about in fury. "It was _not_ empty, you fool! I could have squeezed more out of it!"

Dearka didn't answer him. Yzak writhed in the small space that the shower stall allowed, and his fist made a loud thud on the tile. Suddenly, the tiny space that he had found comforting was suffocating him. He seized the faucet and twisted roughly until freezing water rained down and forced the muggy steam to dissipate. Apparently there was only one way out.

Yzak blinked and took a steadying breath. Fine. _Fine._

As if faster movements would blur the wretched reality of what he was about to do, Yzak swept up the fruity shampoo, squirted a viscous blob into his palm and applied it to his hair. The thick ooze fused to the silken strands like honey to a child's probing fingers, and he scrubbed at the mess with a ferocious intensity to rid himself of it as quickly as possible. It was not long before the sweet aroma reached his nostrils. The silver head's face crinkled in disgust.

"Elsman, this stuff is positively _womanly_, I hope you know!"

But there was not even a snicker from the doorway. Yzak was trapped inside the stall with the scent of strawberries wafting through the damp air, with no way out but to finish what had started. With a grimace, he resolved to fight the chain of unfortunate events. He'd wash his hair with Dearka's shampoo, damn it, and he was going to make his locks gleam in the process.

As he combed his fingers through the fine strands, Yzak allowed his mind to drift. The accursed scent was tugging at the strings of his memory, calling back images of past encounters. Of the light hint of strawberries that followed the blonde more often than not. Of the way the smell sometimes conjured more specific memories to the forefront, like that time Dearka had hauled him into the shower and proceeded to kiss him senseless, or the heated events that had followed like rapid fire on the battlefield…

Yzak shook his head to clear it, furious at himself. He'd had quite enough of reminiscing. With a sharp resolution, he rinsed the scented bubbles from his hair and turned off the water. Once he'd dressed, he rubbed his hair with a towel and flung the door open to find Dearka lounging against the opposite wall.

"Why am I not surprised, Elsman?"

The blonde straightened and advanced with a curve dancing on his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about." He snuck his arms around the slighter boy from behind, and Yzak tensed.

"Bastard. Let go."

He felt Dearka breathe in the scent of his hair before running his hands deliciously through the damp strands.

"You used my shampoo," he observed.

"What choice did I have, idiot?" But then Dearka kissed his neck, sucking lightly at the spot he liked, and he halted his protest in its tracks.

"I think it suits you," Dearka murmured against his skin, trailing the steamy, tingling line of kisses down to Yzak's shoulder and nibbling.

"Hmmph," Yzak grunted crossly, though his heart was not in it. "Don't get too used to it." He allowed Dearka to spin him around and plant a kiss on his throat, and his mind numbed from the pleasant sensation. The blonde's lips on his body were quite dangerous to his quest for revenge, now that he thought of it. He couldn't even muster the desire to push Dearka away.

"Admit that the strawberry thing isn't so bad," Dearka commanded, making Yzak's knees weak with the hum of his voice against pale skin.

"You're pushing your luck," Yzak countered, his senses returning as the blonde pulled back languidly.

Dearka's violet eyes glinted with amusement. "Then at least tell me why you've declared a vendetta."

"I already said why! There's nothing special about _strawberries_, Elsman, and you take the obsession overboard!"

"And I told you it's not an obsession. Just a quirk that you like to pick on." His grin was challenging.

Yzak clenched his teeth, fisted his towel in his hands, and set off down the hall with a dark mutter of dire threats.

_A/N: So what I need from you guys is suggestions of things that come in strawberry flavor or scent, if you've got ideas. Don't know if I'll end up using them since I've already made quite the list, but it can't hurt. Plus you guys are smart. Let's hear what you've got! (Thanks in advance.)_


	4. Strawberry Attack 4

_A/N: Sorry for the wait on this. I'm all backed up._

**PaolaAdara**_ and _**anja-chan**_ suggested lotion as one of the strawberry attacks. I tackled it. Thanks guys!_

Dearka was kissing him. Yzak couldn't help but thank the fates that _this_ kiss had no strings attached. The blonde was commanding his lips; the feeling was unearthly in the way that he floated through their realm of pleasure. For once, Dearka hadn't done anything stupid. No snide remarks. No tricks or surprises. It was just the two of them on the sofa making contact, and curse Yzak for a sap, but he liked it. Liked it with a rather uncharacteristic level of enthusiasm.

Which of course made him pull away out of confusion.

"This is almost too perfect, Elsman," Yzak said, aching with the need to crash their lips together again but resisting for the sake of his sanity. Something was nagging at him. "What the hell have you got up your sleeve?"

Dearka's breathing was ragged as he drew back and raised an eyebrow. For a second, Yzak regretted halting their progress. Dearka looked decidedly _annoyed_.

"What are you talking about?" the blonde asked.

"You. This. _Us_. All day everything has been normal. All day you've just been _Dearka_." At once Yzak knew the blonde didn't comprehend his explanation, but blast it, he couldn't think of a better way to word his sudden distrust.

Dearka frowned. "Should I diagnose you with inherent paranoia, then, Joule?" The tanned male stood. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Yzak let out a little growl of frustration. "Don't get your pants in a jumble, Dearka! I just meant that…" He trailed off. The opposite Coordinator was fixing him with an intent stare that said, "You just robbed me of a good time, so this had better be interesting." Yzak swallowed.

Then his temper took over. How dare Dearka shoot him an accusing glare like that! _Dearka _was the one acting far too suspicious. _Dearka_ was the one that had been giving Yzak hell for the past week, taunting him and tempting him and driving him madder than was typical. Or _acceptable_, for that matter. The silver-haired youth shot to his feet.

"I mean you're usually a royal _pain_, Elsman. Sometimes I think you _like_ it when you aggravate me until I threaten you with detailed verbal descriptions of your doom. _Masochist._ All I'm saying is, you're usually Dearka That I Want To Murder, or Dearka That's Pissing Me Off. Now you're just plain _Dearka_ and you aren't doing anything ridiculous that I've taken note of." His voice picked up a hint of sarcasm. "So forgive me if I'm a touch skeptical." He paused, surprised that he'd vented for so long.

Dearka was examining his hands, and to Yzak's utter indignation, the blonde didn't appear as if he had paid attention to the silver-head's diatribe.

"Elsman," Yzak roared, "Did you listen to a word of that or am I wasting my breath on your stupid carcass again?"

Dearka ran the fingers of one hand over the knuckles of the other and his brow knitted. "My skin is all dry," he murmured.

The silver-haired male let his mouth drop. There he was, trying to justify himself because Dearka had gotten sore over their ruined encounter, and the blonde was going on about the state of his _skin_. They'd been _soldiers_. To hell with skin care! Yzak gritted his teeth until he was sure they'd crack, but by the time he'd regained his senses enough to open his mouth for his next assault, Dearka had rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

Yzak fumed.

Within moments the blonde had returned, rubbing his hands together thoroughly and looking refreshed.

"Elsman."

"Joule."

"What are you doing?" Yzak felt his eyebrow twitch dangerously.

"Relax, relax," Dearka breezed by and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "I'm a guy, but that doesn't mean I can't take care of myself now, does it?"

"Th-that doesn't answer the question of what exactly it is that you are doing."

The blonde widened his violet eyes and gazed at Yzak with mock sincerity. "I'm putting lotion on my hands, obviously." He shook his head as if scolding a child.

"You _woman_." Yzak grimaced.

Dearka shrugged mischievously and continued to indulge himself until his hands were smoothed to satisfaction. "I wouldn't knock it, Yzak," he said. "These hands are going to be all over you in a just a minute. And wouldn't you prefer it to feel nice when I touch you instead of all rough and whatnot?"

The silver-headed youth sputtered incoherently, thoughts of additional contact with the other male bringing a flush to his face. Dearka laughed. When Yzak at last managed to speak, it was with a bitter, ironic bite that he did so.

"That's all well and good, Elsman. But that stuff is strawberry scented, isn't it?"

Dearka's sinister grin was payback for Yzak's earlier withdrawal. "You got it, Yzak."

_A/N: Now it's time I explained the strawberries thing._

_A while back on LJ, _**knightessyamika**_ asked where Dearka's obsession with all things strawberry came from. It's NOT canon; it probably arose from multiple fanworks. What I __can__ say with certainty, though, is that... a damn good number of those fanworks are mine. Eheh heh. I took the initiative to make it prevalent in my writing. And now for some reason, I feel like everyone's confusion both here and on LJ is my fault._

_I decided that Dearka plus strawberries equals OTP, because he seems like that kind of guy to me. The theme kept popping up. Dearka built up this like of all things strawberry flavored. It took off in my head. It kind of irks Yzak because he's not terribly fond of them. At least not as fond as Dearka is. The weird thing I did, though - Dearka doesn't like the actual __strawberries__ themselves, just things with strawberry flavor._

_In no way am I trying to claim credit for matching Dearka's personality with strawberries. I just happened to be the one to go totally nuts with it. I say that people should join in so we can create a MASSIVE DEARKA/STRAWBERRY STORM. It might get old fast, though. I fear I've already slaughtered it with overkill…_

_I'm still taking requests for anything strawberry related! (So long as it's not something I've already used or something too similar to what I've used.) Be creative. Bring it on._


	5. Strawberry Attack 5

_A/N: Aw. Crap. I haven't written this pairing in so long. Sorry for the wait. (Damn you, Matt/Mello, damn you! I'm so behind with everything…)_

Yzak could hear piano music floating down the hall. Delicate notes wafted toward his study, where he sat rifling through his paperwork in a rage. Stupid ZAFT, stupid paperwork, stupid PLANT Supreme Council and their last minute requests that had spoiled his quiet time with Dearka, when they could have been making mischief in the bedroom or…

But the piano music.

It was _distracting _him.

Yzak threw his door open with a crash and raised his voice. "Elsman! Turn that music _off_. I can't concentrate with that racket in the background!" He received no answer.

The silver head sighed and looked toward his desk, where his paperwork waited. Then he glanced back down the hall, where Dearka was probably snickering and preparing to turn the volume _up_.

Yzak grumbled incoherently. He had _work_ to do, damn it, but… He took one last look at the stacks of forms and decrees on his desk and exited his study, moving at a crisp stride toward the source of the problem.

He rounded the corner and emerged in their kitchenette, hardly taking note of the blonde that lounged at the table as he scanned the area for the source of the sound. The piano sang a mournful, somber dirge that made his nose wrinkle. At last, Yzak located the off button on the speakers and punched it fitfully, relaxing only once the noise had ceased.

"Hey. I was listening to that," came Dearka's counterstrike.

Yzak whirled. "That abominable, depressing music was making it hard for me to concentrate." The silver haired youth took stalk of Dearka Elsman then, trying to keep the surprise from weaving its way onto his face.

The blonde was lounging in his boxers and a T-shirt, one foot draped sullenly across the rungs of the opposite kitchen chair and his hair in wild disarray. A spoon hung drearily from his mouth and he hugged to his chest a large tub of…

"Ice cream?" Yzak blinked.

Dearka didn't seem to hear him. Rather, the blonde buried his spoon directly into the carton of sweet desert and took another bite without comment.

"Dearka, what are you…"

"You know that was Nicol's last symphony I was listening to? I've gotta say I appreciate it more now."

Yzak sputtered something unintelligible.

"I'm going to tell Athrun that you called the poor kid's piano playing 'abominable.' Then he'll have more motivation to beat you the next time you two compete with anything. Not that you ever win anyway."

The silver head felt his face turn crimson at the mention of the blue-haired pilot. "I'll tear your liver out, Elsman, I swear it. Now what the hell are you doing?"

Dearka frowned. "Eating ice cream."

"No one _sane_ consumes that much ice cream, Dearka."

Dearka dove in for another heaping spoonful, swallowing the cold, gooey stuff and licking his lips slowly. Yzak watched him through slitted eyelids. He hadn't the faintest idea why his fellow Coordinator had chosen to dine to a piano symphony whilst halfway unclothed, but it wasn't his problem. He spun on his heel and made for his study.

"Are you going back to work?" Dearka wailed, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to extract himself from the chair. "Come on, Yzak, can't you ever take a break?"

"Some of us like to remain in the Council's good graces," Yzak growled, eyeing the dripping carton of ice cream as Dearka neared.

"Lighten up," the blonde said. "Have some freakin' ice cream or something."

The pale youth glared at the proffered spoon and then slid his piercing gaze to the male holding it. "In your dreams, Elsman."

Dearka looked taken aback for a moment. He tucked the loaded spoon into his own mouth with a reflective shrug, then suddenly the familiar glint of daring alighted in his violet eyes.

"Too manly for ice cream, are you Yzak?"

Yzak had seen the taunt coming. "The way you're hoarding it like that Athha when she's in depression, yes. I'd say I'm levels above you."

To his surprise, Dearka laughed. "Maybe next time I'll call Cagalli and we'll wallow together."

Yzak had lost whatever patience he'd been scrabbling to hold on to. He let out a wordless exclamation somewhere between a shriek and a growl and seized the blonde's spoon in a rage. "Give me that, you idiot!"

"Hey – what'd you take my spoon for?"

"Because you're making a mess eating that garbage. Look, it melted all over the table!"

"I was going to put it away a long time ago, but then you went and started doing paperwork…"

"Like I said, Elsman, some of us take an active part in protecting the PLANTs."

"You promised to relax more!"

"I never said that!"

"Gimme back my spoon!"

"Damn you, Dearka – put that mess back in the freezer!"

Dearka was on the opposite side of the kitchen, gripping his carton of ice cream protectively, while Yzak tossed his spoon into the sink with a triumphant sneer. When the silver head turned, however, he was met by a sailing blob of pink that collided with his face and slid in a freezing torrent down his neck.

He hissed a curse. "AUGH, ELSMAN!" When he'd wiped the drizzling goo from his eyes, he saw that Dearka had inserted his hand into the carton with a squelch and fisted another lump of cold ammo. "Don't—" But the second assault hit him in the chest and soaked through his shirt to leave a sticky patch. Yzak gaped.

The blonde was doubled over, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and apologizing profusely. "I'm sorry Yzak, I'm sorry, but it seemed like a the best idea at the time…" The words came garbled through his fit of hysteria.

Yzak gnashed his teeth together. "You'll be doing my laundry, you bastard." But Dearka had already closed the space between them, backing Yzak into the refrigerator and running a warm tongue across his cheek. Yzak shivered.

"Mmm, strawberry," Dearka hummed against his skin, moving to his neck now and lapping at the melted residue of ice cream that had pooled there. "My favorite flavor."

"G-get off me."

"Then take a break from work. I feel like I never see you."

"Arrgh!"

Dearka's hands snaked under his ruined clothes and over his abdomen, making Yzak shudder and weaken in anticipation.

"I got ice cream all over that shirt," Dearka chuckled. "Guess I'll have to take it off, huh?" All thoughts of paperwork fled as Yzak's mind responded to the blonde boy's prompt.

Not like he could have done paperwork with the piano music on, anyway.

_A/N: Using strawberry ice cream was _**Jenihenpen**_'s request. **Kira-sensei** had suggested it as well. :D I hope it turned out all right… Seriously guys, tell me if I got rusty, will you?_


	6. Strawberry Attack 6

_A/N: I am so very, very sorry for how OOC and ridiculous this chapter turned out to be…_

"ARRGH!"

"Relax, Yzak, it's just a car ride."

"I can't believe we had to call _that _bastard for a ride, though!" The silver-haired youth kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk where they were waiting, while the PLANT Supreme Council building loomed in the background.

Dearka stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Well, Athrun does always have the nicest cars…"

The comment made Yzak tick. "How the hell does he pull that off, anyway? The bastard."

"Who knows?" replied the blonde cheekily, "You'd think it'd be _Yzak Joule_ with all the nice cars, seeing as his mother on the Council is just as wealthy as Chairman Zala, if not wealthier."

The silver-head dove for the Buster pilot's throat, but Dearka sidestepped and moved off of the curb just as a sleek silver vehicle drove up and its window rolled down. It was Athrun.

"Nice timing," Dearka said to the blue-headed Coordinator, admiring the gleaming car door as he gripped the handle and pulled it open. "Ladies first," he quipped to Yzak.

"When we get home," Yzak gritted, "I'm gonna kill you." He shoved past the grinning blonde and into the smooth leather seat, where he promptly ignored the green eyes that searched him from the rearview mirror.

"I didn't expect you to call me," Athrun said.

It was Dearka that answered as he climbed into the back beside the fuming Yzak. "Yeah, well, we figured since you were in the neighborhood, it couldn't hurt."

"Oh yes it could," Yzak burst out before he could help himself. Oh, how he loathed the Zala boy and his car with a passion.

Athrun only laughed. "It's nice to see you too, Yzak." He threw the stunning vehicle into gear and they sped off.

"Can't even feel the road under us," Dearka observed, lacing his fingers behind his head and nestling deeper into the plush leather seats. "This is a nice car all right."

Yzak's ears perked up as he detected the chuckle in Dearka's words. His eyes flew to the rearview mirror, where he noted the crinkles around Athrun's eyes. The blue-headed Coordinator looked like he was trying not to self-combust.

"Hey. What the hell is going on?"

Athrun turned his snicker into a choking cough, gripping the wheel tightly to make sure he didn't drive them off the road. Dearka merely cracked one eye open and looked at the silver head coolly.

"What makes you think anything is going on?"

Yzak felt his fingers tense. "Elsman, I swear, if you've conspired with my greatest rival to do something stupid, then…"

"Something stupid?" Dearka asked innocently. "Well I never!"

"Me, your greatest rival?" Athrun's mouth quivered. "Yeah, I guess I am pretty great, aren't I?"

The blonde beside Yzak and the green-eyed boy in front exploded into hysterics.

Yzak went livid. "Just drive before you wreck your fancy car, Zala," he spat. "And you, Elsman. Why'd you call him for a ride? Where the hell is he taking us? What did you arrange with him that I don't know about?!"

Dearka fought to keep his face straight. "Nothing, Yzak, nothing. He's just taking us home."

"I find that hard to…" But he trailed off as Athrun turned onto the street that housed their apartment complex. Perhaps they _were_ going home.

Dearka read his expression and replied aloud. "I told you."

But Yzak didn't answer him. The silver head's nose crinkled in disgust suddenly. The car smelled like…

His arctic eyes flew to the rearview mirror again, but this time, not to monitor Athrun. His vision settled on the thin cardboard shape that was dangling from the mirror's bottom, swaying back and forth on a little string as the car rounded the corner and parked in front of the apartment.

A pale red air freshener that said _Strawberry Fields_ in loopy cursive.

Yzak's eyebrow twitched. "What… is… _that?_"

It was all the other two needed to resume their peals of guffaws. Athrun collapsed atop the steering wheel and his shoulders shook with raw entertainment. Dearka opened the door and managed to stumble awkwardly outside while clutching his aching stomach with glee.

"Why does Zala have a strawberry air freshener in his car?!" Yzak exploded, tearing at his silvery hair in disbelief.

Dearka was rolling on the grass now, too breathless to speak, but Athrun conjured a broken sentence through his laughter. "L-Lacus gave it to me," he said. "Actually…"

"She gave him a whole _box_ of strawberry air fresheners," Dearka finished, while Athrun slipped and accidentally honked the car's horn with his elbow. "So I told Athrun if he gave us a ride today, I'd take them off his hands."

Yzak's jaw dropped, and he swore to have his revenge if it killed him. "So now _we_ have them?"

"No," Dearka said. "_You_ have them. I hung them all over your bedroom."

Yzak jerked himself out of the car and slammed the door, fuming.

Athrun rolled down the window again. "You want this one too?" He shook the little scented thing in Yzak's direction.

"I'll kill you _both!_"

"Why? It's a present for when my Justice flew around looking cooler than your Duel during the last phase of the war."

Yzak let out a wordless holler and dove for the blue-head, but Athrun rolled the window shut with highly-evolved speed and Yzak's fist hit glass instead.

"Ooh, careful there," Dearka commented, "That shit's bulletproof."

_A/N: This was thanks to _**Tobi Tortue**_, who'd suggested strawberry scented car fresheners. It was such a good idea! I don't know why I wanted to make it Athrun's car, though. It could have as easily been Dearka's. I guess I needed to torture Yzak even more, pull other people into it to go against him, not just Dearka… But again, sorry for making this so OOC._


	7. Strawberry Attack 7

Yzak stifled a yawn. He'd been up late, busy with… what else but paperwork? His head throbbed painfully, and he gritted his teeth. A collapse into bed would hopefully rid him of the endless swirls and columns of text that still floated through his mind. Damn it – why couldn't ZAFT get the lowly green-coats to do the more mindless jobs?

The silver head trudged into the bedroom, hand against his head. If the world didn't stop spinning, pretty soon he'd use his standard issue firearm to personally coerce it.

"Yzak," Dearka called from the bathroom. "You going to bed?"

"Damn straight I am," Yzak spat, though it was more the headache he was angry with than Dearka. Maybe he should have taken a painkiller or two extra.

The blonde shuffled out of the far door with his toothbrush in his mouth, and he spoke around it while the foam dribbled over his chin. "Acktooey, I wash tinking ub gettik to bed a wittle shooner—"

"Elsman, if you think I can decipher a word of that disgusting drivel, you're making a mistake." Yzak squinted his eyes shut and turned his face away. Had he an appetite just then, he would have lost it.

Dearka made a slurping noise and wiped his mouth on the back of his palm. "I said, 'Actually, I was thinking of getting to bed a little sooner too.'"

Yzak hadn't the mental strength to respond to the cheeky grin on the blonde's face. He waved a dismissive hand and felt his way to the bedside, keeping his eyes cinched tight. The light from the bathroom was wreaking havoc on his senses. He needed to lie down.

While he listened to the running water in the sink, he felt for the pillow. Dearka muttered something about locating his towel, but Yzak didn't quite hear him. The pounding of blood in his ears rendered him impervious to whatever the tanned male now blathered. For a second, the silver haired youth considered snickering. Maybe this headache of his wasn't so inconvenient after all.

"OY, _YZAK_!"

Or maybe Dearka Elsman was just going to yell into his ear.

Yzak hissed and opened his eyes. "For the love of ZAFT, Elsman – what the _hell_ do you want?"

Violet eyes blinked worriedly at him. "I wanted to know why you looked so pale, that's all."

The silver head had to use every ounce of his control to keep from throttling the opposite Coordinator. "I'm _always_ pale. Or hadn't you noticed?" A bolt of lightning shot through his temple then, and he cursed beneath his breath and leaned over.

Dearka stayed quiet for a moment, weighing the situation with his hands on his hips. "Did you take a painkiller?" he asked seriously, all traces of harassment gone from his handsome features.

"Yes, yes. I'll be fine in a minute. But quit hollering."

The blonde positioned himself on the bed next to Yzak, and they waited there in silence until the silver head felt he could chance opening his eyes. A flicker of moonlight shone between the curtains – Dearka had mercifully turned off the bathroom light. Yzak inhaled a deep breath, catching sight of the blonde's anxious face in the semi-darkness.

"Are you all right now?"

Yzak's cheeks flushed. "What am I, some helpless little _girl?_ I said I'd be fine, and I am."

Dearka looked mollified. "Okay then. I'm going to bed, as should you."

The Duel pilot grumbled. "Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do." That was when he noticed the sheets. _Pink_ sheets, with pairs of plump little strawberries dotted left to right, nestled together side by side and valentine red like heart candy. The whole display was visible even in the muted dark of night.

For once in his life, Yzak Joule was speechless with mortification.

"What, the sheets?" Dearka asked. He glanced between Yzak and the covers, looking slightly guilty. "Uh. I borrowed them from my sister."

"You don't HAVE a sister!" Now Yzak was fully awake. To hell with sleeping off headaches; he was out for blood.

Dearka flinched. "Okay, you're right. I borrowed these from Cagalli this morning. You know when we went to the store and we split up? Remember how when I came back, I had that—"

"Don't tell me what I already know," Yzak frothed, his voice a shrill screech as he sought the blonde's throat. "Just tell me why the bed has got strawberries all over it!"

"Well," Dearka was having a tough time prying the silver head's fingers from around his neck. "You see, I had planned on using them to piss you off again, but then you got a headache so I just—"

But Yzak wasn't listening any more. "Arrgh! On the pillow too?"

A pale pink pillowcase with one chubby, stout strawberry. Right in the middle.

"ELSMAN!" He struggled wildly, but before he knew it, Dearka had forced him down onto the offending pillow and pinned his arms.

"Take it easy, Yzak. You're pushing yourself too hard."

Yzak blew a strand of hair out of his eyes and fought against the weight of Dearka atop him. He couldn't move an inch, and at once the blonde boy's face was dangerously close to his own.

Dearka paused. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment.

"For what?" Yzak growled, aiming a kick that missed and getting himself pinned harder in the process. "Don't tell me you're actually apologizing for assaulting me with those damn strawberries."

"Not a chance," Dearka said. He dipped his head lower. "I'm apologizing for _this_." And he crushed their lips together.

Yzak fell immediately still. His body tingled at the familiar sensation of Dearka's firm lips. He began to wriggle, but the blonde worked his mouth gently over Yzak's own and suddenly he was rendered helpless. Helpless to the hands that slipped through his hair, helpless to the way that Dearka slowly shifted them both so they were fully lying down. Yzak allowed his eyes to close and a low sigh to escape his lips.

"What was that for?" he asked when Dearka had untangled himself and rolled over.

"To kiss you quiet." He didn't say anything else.

Yzak scowled for a moment, then submitted to the softness of the bed and closed his eyes to sleep. He felt himself drifting almost at once.

It was the most comfortable pillow he'd ever slept on.

_A/N: "__Yzak would probably be pissed if he found so much as a pillowcase with strawberries on it." – _**anja-chan**

_Now, I don't think that was an official request from her. Just a comment made a while ago. But nonetheless… it turned into this chapter. (THANK YOU, O SEED TWIN OF DOOM!)_


	8. Strawberry Attack 8

_A/N: Okay, so they might be OOC again here, but I accept that. Because this is crack/humor, which I suck mightily at, and therefore it's impossible for me to make them normal no matter what I do. Anyhow, this is a chapter that loads of people have asked for. In great number. So I've finally written it._

"I can't believe you've never tried it, Yzak."

The silver head grumbled. "Will you shut up? I refuse to see what's so special about it." Dearka was getting on his nerves again.

The blonde sat on the sofa, munching away at what appeared to be a long, slender cookie coated in something pink. Yzak didn't want to ask, so he hadn't. He'd gone on pouring himself coffee. And he didn't want to _know_, either, which is why he hadn't _asked_, so he didn't think it was a rude decision to send Dearka a death glare when the blonde tried his hardest to explain anyway. Yzak did not desire an explanation. What was the big deal about sweets?

"You refuse to see what's so special?" Dearka parroted back in question. "So, does that mean you technically _could_ understand why people like it, but you simply won't? As in, you're really just putting yourself in denial because when you think about it, understanding why people like Pocky actually isn't that hard?"

Yzak fumed. Trust Dearka to use garbled logic like that to make him writhe. "Shut it, Elsman. I know it's difficult for you, but at least try to pretend you're a soldier of ZAFT with some semblance of self control."

But Dearka already had that familiar smile hovering over his lips. "I'm right, aren't I? You wanna try some?" He extracted a stick from a box that looked like it ought to be carrying long pink cigarettes rather than Pocky.

"No, I do not," Yzak snapped harshly, whirling around to pour himself a second cup of the blackest coffee. "If you want to eat that disgusting candy first thing in the morning, be my guest."

Mock indignation worked its way onto Dearka's dark features. "_Candy_, you say? Tut tut, Commander Joule. Don't you know what Pocky _is_?"

Yzak didn't know whether he ought to slug the blonde for mocking his higher rank or strangle him for acting so pompous over a stupid treat. Either way, Dearka's tone irked him, and his fingers closed like a vise over the ceramic of his coffee mug.

"Candy is candy, Elsman. I don't see how you're getting around this one."

The blonde waggled a scolding finger. "Now see, if you'd just _try_ it, you'd know what I mean. I bet I can get you to like it."

Yzak folded his arms in a stance that said _try me, asshole_, and lifted his eyebrow in expectation. He felt confident. This would be the day he proved that Dearka's strawberry obsession went too far.

The blonde had launched himself off the sofa, a triumphant spring to his step. The moment he caught the look on Yzak's face, he faltered.

"What's with the creepy grin, Yzak?"

"Oh, nothing, Elsman, nothing. Feel free to continue your wily endeavors." Yzak's voice was smooth as oil.

Now Dearka stood stalk still, weighing the situation whilst trying to appear casual. The silver haired youth could not suppress a shudder of victory. The blonde didn't know that he had at last gained the upper hand.

"Why do I get the feeling that you know something I don't?" Dearka looked positively mortified now, though he covered his failing nerves as best he could with a thick swallow and a forced twinkle in his violet eyes.

Yzak could no longer contain his satisfaction. "Because I do, Elsman. So don't take a single step closer with that strawberry mess in your hands." Dearka's eyebrows shot into his hairline at the use of the word _strawberry_, and Yzak sneered.

"How'd you know it was strawberry?" the blonde asked carefully.

Yzak began to pace the length of their small kitchen, feeling himself grow hot with the brilliant success of his own hard work. "I've finally had a chance to do some research," he said, making sure to curl his lip in a way that laid all blame on Dearka for distracting him from said task. "I collected a list of popular strawberry flavored items so I'd be prepared. I was too late for shampoo and air fresheners, but this Pocky candy of yours was quite high on the list."

"I'd say it's actually more of a cookie than can—" But Yzak shot him a frightening glare, and Dearka fell silent.

"The point is, Elsman, by the time you had that Pocky shoved in your face this morning, I already knew what it was. You've lost the element of surprise, and without that, it's pretty obvious that you can't pull any of your filthy tricks."

Dearka whistled in defeat. He fixed Yzak with a look that said he was impressed despite himself. "Well then. Guess I'll have to stand down this time, huh?"

Yzak pursed his lips and delivered the coup. "For your information, even if I hadn't done all the research, I still would have known that you were eating something strawberry. All I had to do was look at the package."

The blonde flinched in surprise and glanced down. "Damn." The Pocky box had strawberries all over its front, situated there plain as the smugness on Yzak's face.

Dearka shrugged lazily and shut one eye. "Well, I guess I was so set on catching you off guard that I failed to notice my own mistake."

"One might almost doubt you're a soldier," Yzak said sardonically.

"Or," Dearka said, "One might almost say I'm too wrapped up in ravishing you to pay attention to anything else."

The blush seeped fast onto the silver head's cheeks. "_Who_ gets ravished?!" He had to be careful, or Dearka would again steal the upper hand.

"_You_ do," Dearka enlightened him, slipping another stick of Pocky from the box. "Or hadn't you noticed that every time I attack you with something strawberry flavored, I end up half-seducing you in the process? I like the whole routine, actually. Gives me something to look forward to at the end of a long day."

Yzak fumbled for words. It was more like Dearka _fully_ seduced him – never mind all that _half_ garbage - but he'd be damned if he were to admit that aloud.

"What, no come back?" Dearka's violet eyes glittered. And Yzak folded, though more from the shock of what Dearka was doing with his Pocky stick than out of any desire to surrender his hard-won lead.

The blonde brought the delicate treat to his lips, licking slowly up the length of pink frosting in a highly erotic fashion that made Yzak's insides tingle. The pale youth found he couldn't tear his eyes away. Dearka sucked at the tip of the stick, mouth forming a neat, provocative _O_ around its width before sliding down and then up with a languidness that sang desire. Violet eyes were locked on blue, and Yzak's breath froze in his throat. Dearka ran his tongue over the frosting again, as if he'd like nothing better than to bite down and scrape his teeth over the surface but was too lazy to do so. His tongue was bold, sliding across the shaft and making tiny twirling motions. Then the blonde closed his eyes as if he'd faint from pleasure and released a slow moan.

Yzak's knees went weak in response.

"So does this mean I've won for today?" Dearka asked when Yzak had swallowed and managed a glare.

But giving Dearka a glare wasn't enough to bring him to his senses.

"Shit." The silver haired Coordinator found he was quite incapable of saying anything further.

"Good." Dearka sauntered over and draped an arm across his shoulder. "Because to tell you the truth, licking Pocky that way made me feel kind of like a cheesy porn star."


	9. Strawberry Attack 9

_A/N: I've been gone for way too long. Busy, lack of motivation, being an asshole in general… I can't even make any excuses. I can't even remember WHO SUGGESTED THIS SUGGESTION. (Woooww.) I'm rusty beyond all belief. HERE, HAVE A NEW CHAPTER. xP_

It took all of Yzak's manly poise to reign in the double-take that threatened to snap his head off. Even so, the silver head could not help but blink in astonishment as he passed by the door to his study. He swallowed.

Impossible.

As though compelled by mystical forces, Yzak stopped dead in his tracks and retraced his steps. He stood silently at the threshold and merely observed, clenching his jaw so as not to let it drop.

Dearka was inside the room with his back turned. He hunched in Yzak's hard wooden chair, scribbling madly at something on the desk in front of him. Yzak watched the blonde's shoulders tense. It wasn't long before Dearka muttered a quiet disagreement to the empty room, shaking his head and making a sweeping motion with his arm as if he'd recently erased something. Then the blonde promptly returned his nose to the paper. Dearka Elsman was concentrating. Hard.

Well. Maybe now pigs would pilot _mobile suits_, never mind simply _fly_.

Yzak padded into the room and hovered neatly, making sure to cast a perfectly intimidating shadow over the blonde's page.

Dearka flinched like a man on the rack. "Yzak! Jesus – I'm on your side, remember? Scare the shit out of the _Naturals_ if you have to scare someone!" He twisted around in his seat and grimaced, much to Yzak's satisfaction.

"I admire your intent concentration, Elsman, but you don't mean to tell me you're actually _working?_"

The blonde opened his mouth to protest, but at once he paused and his furrowed brows lifted. Ever so slowly, a grin wended its way onto Dearka's features.

"I get it," he said. "You never thought you'd see the day." Then he chuckled. "But in case you forgot, I always finish my reports, and I haven't exactly neglected any of my other duties, either."

Yzak wasn't fazed. "Granted. But I still had you pegged for the type that'd be paying off a lower ranking officer to do the work for him."

"Yzak!"

And to Yzak's distress, the blonde looked slightly insulted.

Yzak swallowed. The last thing he wanted was Dearka getting upset with him. Watching the blonde from the door had reminded Yzak all over again just why it was that he allowed Dearka so much free reign in the first place. He didn't need the pressure of having to mollify an indignant Elsman, not when all he craved at that moment was for the blonde to capture him with those now-frowning lips and rekindle what had started earlier with Pocky and—

"Zodiac Alliance to Commander Joule," Dearka deadpanned, and the silver head started.

"Can you blame me for being suspicious of your work ethic?" Yzak asked coolly. "Military reports are supposed to be typed, but you're sitting here writing on…" Yzak looked down at the paper atop the desk. His mouth formed a thin line of ire.

Dearka raked his hair away from his forehead, immediately guilty.

"Pink paper, Elsman?" The silver head's voice was quiet and perilous. Then his eyebrow ticked. "Are you writing love letters on such feminine stationery?"

Dearka sputtered something, but Yzak raised his voice and snarled over him.

"How _romantic_. That would explain the obscene amount of concentration you were putting into your writing just now."

"Oh, now concentrating is suddenly an obscene practice?" Dearka had begun to mutter in a frustrated monotone, but the argument melted from his voice when Yzak's face contorted. "Geez, Yzak – take a look at the paper yourself," he said.

Dearka stretched out an arm and the silver-haired youth snatched up the proffered sheet, glaring. At once his mouth fell open, and Dearka burst into a heavy set of guffaws upon witnessing the look on Yzak's face.

"This is your report," Yzak announced, astonished.

"Of course it is. What made you think it wasn't?"

"You're not supposed to write them out by hand!"

"No one's ever complained. My scrawl is legible enough." Dearka waited for a rebuttal, but Yzak was already distracted. His nose crinkled. Suddenly it seemed Dearka's speech was growing faster. "And, um – well, the paper is a nice color, you know? A change from the boring old reports on plain white—"

"Elsman." The name came out a soft whisper.

Dearka cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Is this… _scented_ paper?"

Yzak thought his teeth were grinding hard enough to crack clean out of his head. He already knew the answer. Dearka panicked, but he dove for his report all too late. Yzak swept it out of the blonde's reach and crumpled it in a white-knuckled fist.

Dearka's face was the picture of devastation. "OY!"

"Do it over," Yzak commanded.

"But I already—"

"You ought to be demoted for sending in reports that smell like strawberries, you bastard! I'd have preferred it if you _were_ writing a love letter!"

Dearka had wrested the page from Yzak's stiff hands, but he gave up all attempts to smooth the crinkles out of it. Without warning, he straightened, a contemplative glint in his violet eyes.

"_Love_ letter, hmm?"

Yzak froze, cursing himself for allowing Dearka an opening to steal the upper hand. "Why are you looking at me like that, you idiot?"

Dearka's grin only widened. "Had _passion_ on the brain much lately, Yzak?"

The silver head's heart fluttered at the low innuendo that rode the waves of Dearka's voice, but he fought against it. If he'd had any desires upon entering the room, they had fled at the sight of Dearka's disgusting stationery. All suggestive thoughts were lying at the bottom of the fire pit where Yzak intended to _burn_ said pages - every pink sheet within sight - the moment Dearka wasn't looking.

The blonde was staring now, as if epiphany had struck while Yzak was busy plotting the fastest way to dispose of all things strawberry.

"Hey. Yzak."

The curve that graced Dearka's sultry lips could have set all the stationery in the world aflame, if only it hadn't been aimed at Yzak. As it were, Yzak felt his insides melt and curl with pleasure that he couldn't choke back.

"What the hell do you want?" he struggled.

Dearka let out soft laugh. "You."

Before Yzak could process the single word, he found himself gripped tightly by the waist and pressed into the desk with Dearka in front of him.

"D-Dearka—" His protests were cut short by a sharp hitch in his own breathing, as the blonde pressed in tighter and brushed his thigh against a place where friction was deadly.

"Keep quiet," Dearka whispered, low and husky into the silver head's ear, "I'm trying to compose the perfect love letter." His tone was almost too suggestive for Yzak to handle.

"Tell me you're joking, Elsman." Yzak's knees went weak when the blonde's tongue flicked out to trace his earlobe. He concluded with a small shiver that Dearka had no desire to play tricks.

Not when it came to seducing him.

Dearka's firm lips moved to Yzak's throat next, imploring, provoking. Fire coursed through the silver haired male's veins, and he dug his fingers into Dearka's taut shoulders. He was losing every ounce of control in him.

"To my lover Yzak," Dearka began cheekily, and Yzak could feel the blonde's lips forming a smile as they roamed to one corner of his mouth. "Nah. Maybe just, 'Dear Yzak,' would have sounded better."

"Asshole."

"Quiet. I'm not finished." Dearka silenced Yzak with a slow kiss that sent a shudder of wanton ripples to his core. When he pulled away, Yzak knew his face had flushed with unbridled enthusiasm.

"I'm writing you this letter," Dearka dictated to Yzak's cheek as his fingers combed through shimmering, silvery locks, "To tell you that I'm deeply, _madly_—"

"You sound like a schoolgirl," Yzak interrupted, but his sentence punctuated itself with a lustful moan when Dearka splayed his fingers below the belt of his uniform. It was not only Dearka's touch, but the sound of his voice that was making Yzak hot with sensation.

"To _tell_ you," Dearka began afresh, "That I'm falling for you harder than—" Yzak fisted a handful of Dearka's flaxen hair. "—harder than I _myself_ get when I begin to think about the way you move, or when I think about you late at night, lying in my bed and screaming your name as I draw closer and closer to…"

"ELSMAN!"

Dearka pulled back and smiled innocently. "What? You can't tell me a schoolgirl would say _that, _too."


End file.
